John le Carré’s The Spy Who Came In From The Cold stands as one of the pillars of mid 20th century spy fiction, le Carré’s shabby heroes providing the grit to offset Ian Flemings 007 glamour. Dramatic adaptations of his works tend towards television miniseries rather than film and stage for good reason – they are packed with so much weighty, complex plot that condensing them to a manageable scale risks either excising a lot of material or skimming the surface.
David Eldridge’s theatrical version, originally presented two years ago in Chichester, is an ambitious enterprise, particularly in that it distils the text down to a little under two hours stage time whilst retaining a sizeable amount of the narrative.
Much of its success lies in the spare economy of the physical staging. Max Jones’ set presents us with an almost bare stage dominated a the barbed-wire topped stretch of Berlin Wall to its rear, which serves as temporal anchor, atmospheric backdrop, and a watchtower-like eerie from which many characters observe the action below like solitary members of a Greek chorus. An upturned forest of utilitarian hanging lamps rise and fall to help delineate various scenes along with the minimal use of props, and much of the visual picture is painted by Azusa Ono’s inky lighting script, punctuated by plumes of cigarette smoke. All of this is accompanied by a stylised score from Paul Englishby.
Ralf Little is our antihero Alec Leamas, the weary, cynical British agent whose titular return from his role in the cold war is put on hold by Control (an imperious Nicholas Murchie), who wants him for one last mission in East Germany, to frame Abteilung officer Hans-Dieter Mundt (Peter Losasso). Whilst Little is almost the right age for Leamas, he is somewhat lacking in the necessary world-weary heaviness of foot and is perhaps a little too likeable, but he nonetheless captures sufficient sadness and resignation to make up for it. Where he wins is in his easy ability to portray the character’s down to earth working class roots, which is a defining aspect of the role.
Gráinne Dromgoole is a fine choice as the Communist librarian Liz Gold, who becomes a love interest for Leamas. Whilst le Carré uses this doomed emotional sub-plot as another way of making his lead an antithesis of Fleming’s lothario Bond, the compressed timeline of Eldridge’s adaptation robs the pair of the opportunity to develop any real sense of connection, and their scenes together fail to ignite.
What Eldridge does do is expand the significance of one of le Carré’s best known characters George Smiley. Although he spends much of his time overseeing the action from his vantage point atop the wall, Smiley, played stoically by Tony Turner, has a very palpable presence.
The supporting cast are uniformly excellent and the action is not only directed with impressive drive by Jeremy Herrin, but also artfully choreographed by movement director Lucy Cullingford.
At 1 hour 50 minutes (plus interval) the play keeps its audience on their toes, if not always on the edge of the seat, with the narrative fairly rattling along, so if you are used to the more gradual tread of TV tellings such as Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy or The Night Manager you need to pay close attention.
This is a finely crafted production that features a lot of strong performances, and what it may lack in the slow, brooding quality you might expect from le Carré, it makes up for in style and delivery.
Following its week at Liverpool Playhouse, where tickets are selling swiftly, The Spy Who Came In From The Cold continues its tour with a further 12 venues booking through to August.
Rating: 4 stars
Production photography by Johan Persson
This review was originally written for publication by Good News Liverpool
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